


Moments, Scattered Like Stars

by interventionsandlullabies



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Character Study, Drabble Collection, Ending Unknown, F/M, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Hopefully Happy Ending?, Literally Writing in Real Time, Main Story, Mild Language, Peebee flirts with everything, Reeeal slow burn yall, Slow Burn, Sweet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-23
Packaged: 2021-03-24 11:08:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30071346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/interventionsandlullabies/pseuds/interventionsandlullabies
Summary: After finding herself suddenly the human Pathfinder and suddenly the Milky Way ambassador to a previously unknown species, a reckless and hot-tempered Sara Ryder must navigate her new responsibilities, her unruly shipmates, and her unnervingly vulnerable new shipmate, Jaal. Will their conflicting personalities drive them apart, or will they grow closer in a tender friendship – and perhaps something more?-This is a connected series of drabbles following the main storyline of Mass Effect: Andromeda. It will (mostly) follow the canon, with slight changes that feel within the realm of the characters. It is being written in real time as I play ME:A for the first time.-
Relationships: Jaal Ama Darav/Female Ryder | Sara
Comments: 5
Kudos: 10





	1. I. Voeld

**Author's Note:**

> As mentioned before, I am currently playing through ME:A for the first time. Somehow, I managed to avoid spoilers for 3 years, so I don’t know how this game ends. Please do not send me spoilers lol I will cry.
> 
> These stories explore the relationship between Sara Ryder and Jaal, with plenty of shipmate hijinks added in! I hope these are funny and sweet; fingers crossed it’s a happy ending and honestly kill me if Jaal dies halfway through this game.

"No. Just stop. This is stupid."

Drack's displeasure seeped into his words as they echoed through the interior of the Nomad. Ryder pulled one of the gears and veered to the right, skidding briefly on the icy surface and throttling up a small incline. She steered the vehicle into a small cave and slammed on the brakes. Once it had come to a complete stop, she whipped around to face her Krogan passenger. He glowered back. 

"We've been going for 36 hours straight," Drack began, the irritation radiating off him in low waves. "And that was after all the shit at Havarl. I'm pissed off. You're pissed off." He looked over at Jaal, who was watching this exchange with open curiosity and a closed mouth. "He’s probably pissed off but for once he’s stopped talking." Drack turned back to Ryder. "You were a terrible shot back there. We need to take a break if we’re going to that Kett facility, otherwise you're going to die like an idiot."

Ryder ground her teeth but didn't argue. How could you even argue with a Krogan once they got that dead lizard look in their eyes? "Fine," she said sharply. "We'll rest here for a while. But I'll take first watch." 

"That wasn't the poi-" Drack began, but Ryder had already shoved the hatch open, the freezing air battering her uncovered face.

 _Awful tundra planet,_ she thought. But it had been suffocating inside the Nomad anyway. She checked to make sure her shotgun was still on her hip and then pulled herself out, closing the hatch and landing in the snow. She walked towards the mouth of the cave and simply breathed, slowly. It wasn't too bad. She knew she should activate her helmet, but the cold air filling her lungs felt like a tiny luxury. 

"SAM. What's my life support situation right now?'

A crackle of static, and then: "Life signs are stable, Pathfinder, but this environment is not ideal. You have 10 minutes before critical damage."

10 minutes to recenter. That was good; that was plenty of time. Then she would go back and... admit he was right? No, he'd gloat even more. She would go back and simply keep watch from inside the Nomad, and then switch off whenever he woke up. Ryder rubbed her eyes, which were dry and irritated. Drack _was_ right, which was worst part about it. She was running on fumes but didn’t see an alternative. How could they slow down when there was so much on the line?

She had been contemplating switching her shotgun for her sniper rifle, wondering if there were wraiths in the distance, when she heard snow crunching behind her. Immediately she pulled the shotgun up and leveled it, finger already on the trigger by the time she turned around, but there was no threat – just Jaal, still wearing that curious expression. He tilted his head and eyed the shotgun, not moving. 

"Uhh. Sorry," Ryder blurted out, shifting from one foot to the other. She lowered the weapon. 

"No, my apologies. You have sharp instincts. I'm lucky you didn't shoot me." Jaal said this warily, as if he thought there was still a chance of it happening. 

"What are you doing?"

"I came outside to speak to you privately."

She stared at him. "Why?"

He looked at her uncomfortably, as if he was a little disappointed at her reaction. She bristled slightly under his gaze. 

"I am... grateful for what you accomplished for my people on Havarl. In addition, you and your companions have been welcoming to me, personally. I wanted to express my gratitude for this, but we have not had many periods of inactivity since meeting. You seem to frequently be engaged in something. Do you ever rest?"

"I don't sleep well," she answered, surprising herself with her honesty. There was a way he had of asking questions; the sincerity of his words lulling his listener into a stupor and then the answers would slip out, unbidden.

Jaal nodded slowly, looking closely into her face. "This seems evident."

Ryder wasn’t sure if this was meant to be insulting or funny and was too tired to decipher it. She wasn't about to be cowed by him though, so she stared back openly. Jaal had been an enigma from the moment she met him, seething in a perfect representation of polite hostility. He looked down at her with open scrutiny, but there was nothing hostile in his posture now. He seemed to be searching for answers in the planes of her face, but what question, she didn't know.

Eventually, he ended their nonverbal sparring by gesturing to the space beside her. "May I join you?"

She nodded, and he came over. Jaal stood stiffly, gazing out at the wildness of Voeld, and sighed. "It's not my favorite of our planets, but I hope we can reclaim it."

"We can. We will. We'll take it back for Angara and make it safe for our colonists, so we can live harmoniously together," Ryder said, shifting easily back into “The Pathfinder.” _Yes. Project confidence. Find solutions._

He turned his head towards her. "How long have you been the Human Pathfinder?"

An internal stumble. "A.. few months." She hoped he didn't catch the hesitancy in her words.

"A few months? For a mission so critical?" he asked. He did catch it. _Of course._ This was the last time she would ever truly attempt to slip something passed him. He had a sense for emotional nuance that was unparalleled, catching every inflection, no matter how slight.

Ryder squinted into the snow. She wanted to activate her helmet but didn't. Jaal stood there, still watching her, for all the world appearing like he could wait out the end of days. Noticing her distress, he tilted his head to get a better look at her hidden expression.

"This subject is troubling for you," he noted, and she inhaled slowly through her nose.

"Yes."

"And yet, you are still attempting to explain it to me."

"...yes," she grit out.

"Why?"

Ryder whirled on him then, her temper one step ahead of her. "Could you please, just once, notice that I hate that we're having this conversation but I'm still trying to do it and _not_ iterate to me that you know I hate the conversation we're having but am still trying to do it?"

She shut her eyes then, frustrated that she had lost control in that second, and with _Jaal_ of all people. The person she needed desperately to advocate for her and her team, and also not murder her in her sleep. When she opened them he was looking at her with wide eyes, his broad shoulders pulled back.

"I'm sorry," she said, conjuring up all of the capital-p Politeness she had seen Alec Ryder display in tense situations. "That was rude."

He leaned towards her, and for a brief moment she was afraid this was it, he was actually going to assassinate her like Evfra had promised. But he was peering at the flush of color on her throat, climbing up to her cheeks. She covered it instinctually with her hands and he pulled back.

"You are... truly not comfortable with communication," he said, awed, as if this as a concept had never been previously known to him.

"I am an excellent communicator," Ryder said, and even she could hear how childishly defensive that sounded in her ears. Why was she arguing with him? Why were her hands still covering her throat? She lowered them and tried to rein this conversation back in. "I strive to communicate well with a plethora of different species, including yours. Amongst my many roles as Pathfinder, I am a diplomat. If you have suggestions for better ways I can communicate with your people, I am open to them."

Jaal, unimpressed by her speech, merely gestured to her throat. "You were overheating from the stress of _this_ conversation. Your assertion is correct: you were calm and self-assured on Aya, despite many my people's desire to see you eliminated." His eyes were electric; she was a new puzzle he was desperate to solve. Ryder shifted uneasily under his gaze. She had the thought that, if it were up to him, he would study her fastidiously in a lab the same way he studied the small plants and minerals he brought into his room on the Tempest. 

Jaal gasped to himself and Ryder reared back, startled.

"I want to test something," he declared. "Tell me about your family."

Ryder just stared, wondering if the frigid air had somehow damaged his mind. Hadn't he mentioned that Angara couldn't survive in cold temperatures for very long? Now she was worried she had let the very first Angaran ambassador to a Milky Way team contract some sort of terminal ice-based brain trauma.

"Are you listening to me? I am testing a legitimate hypothesis. Please, tell me about your family."

She couldn't understand what he was doing, but didn't yet see the harm in it. "I have a twin brother named Scott, and a father and mother. My parents are both dead, and Scott is still in cryo-sleep on the Nexus, with the other Milky Way settlers."

Jaal hummed to himself. "Tell me something that isn't fact-based."

Ryder opened her mouth but snapped it shut, feeling the flush returning to her neck.

"My hypothesis was correct! You are uncomfortable with _personal_ communication!"

Momentarily buoyed by his discovery, Jaal lit up in elation. It changed him. He had been aloof and reserved since the first moment they had stumbled through greetings on Aya, his body tense and charged. Released from this, his features were soft and warm, his smile a sunburst that she felt down through her toes. A mixture of emotions churned in her belly and up through her throat, and she felt horrified to discover that mixed in with relief, joy, and incredulity was _longing._

 _Holy shit. Shut that_ down, _Pathfinder_ , she thought sternly to herself.

When Jaal recovered, returning to a slightly more relaxed neutral place, he regarded her kindly. One small barrier had burst between them, but another had grown around Ryder as she dealt with the unwanted dregs of attraction.

"What is embarrassing about being vulnerable with your true soul?" he asked.

Ryder wanted to believe this had to be sarcastic, but knew she shouldn't have ever bothered with hope. Lightly, she responded: "If it was easy for me to be vulnerable, I'd be able to explain why it is so difficult for me."

Jaal laughed, which seemed to catch him off-guard. "That is a completely valid point. Do you believe you could do me the honor of finishing your earlier thought, that I ... how did you put it ... couldn't resist iterating your hatred regarding."

"What was the question?" she asked, buying time.

"Why have you only been the Human Pathfinder for a few months?"

Ryder didn't answer right away. This was the most open he had been with her thus far, and she didn't want to ruin the moment and potentially wreck the Initiative's best chance at peace with the Angara. She needed the Angara to trust her — she needed _him_ to trust her. But the truth was an ugly, wretched thing. Could she lie to him? Ryder glanced briefly in his direction, and found him still gazing at her intently, taking in her fidgeting fingers and tense features. No. He would know a lie, would likely be able to pluck it from the air the moment it left her lips.

"I... the original Pathfinder was my father," she began, haltingly. "He died. On...he died on our first mission. Where we first encountered the Kett. When he died— he made me the Pathfinder. That was the last thing he did."

Jaal softened considerably. He lifted a hand but dropped it back to his side, and Ryder couldn't begin to imagine what he had intended. "I am so sorry. That is a great burden to bear, but he must have believed so strongly in you. How far had you gotten in your training?"

She ground her teeth. There was no going back. "I wasn't trained for this role, specifically. I wasn't in line to be the next Pathfinder. That was Cora, the-" she gestured around her head, "human woman with the light hair. Dad...my father changed the succession. It went to me and couldn't be undone."

Jaal absorbed this information. He didn't seem upset, and Ryder felt a small burst of relief. This feeling was quashed when he next spoke: "That must have caused quite the rift between you and Cora."

For the first of what would be a million times, Ryder briefly wished she had made first contact with a less forward and emotionally intelligent species. She looked past his shoulder, into the barren wildness. "You could say that."

"I just did."

She glanced back to make sure there hadn't been a language barrier issue, but he was smiling. Despite everything, she smiled back.

"Ama Darav, was that a joke?"

He chuckled, looking back out at the landscape of Voeld. "I am capable of them. They will be better once I'm more familiar with your cultures. I am quite funny to my own people." He looked back down at her. "You can call me Jaal."

"Okay. Jaal."

"And what shall I call you? The full title: Sara Ryder, Human Pathfinder?"

"Ryder is fine."

Jaal nodded like he had expected as much. Even her name was a part of her she wasn't willing to share. They were quiet for a moment, listening to the wind whistle over the snow. Then Jaal turned to her and extended one hand, which she looked at, slightly puzzled.

"I believe this is a thing that humans do...?" He said quietly, a hint of question in his tone. It was an olive branchThis was their best chance of going into the Kett facility on good terms, of rescuing his Moshae and getting all of these Angara and their _questions_ out of her hair on good terms.

She grasped his hand to shake it, and he surprised her by placing his other over hers, swallowing her hand. Ryder did not consider herself a particularly physically affectionate person. Her inclination was to pull away, but his expression was so earnest that her trepidation faded. She allowed him to hold her hand, willing any unwanted thoughts away, reminding herself over and over that this was likely a cultural difference.

"Well, Ryder, I appreciate your _brave_ attempts at vulnerability with me." Amusement touched his lips, and she barely resisted the urge to smack him. "Please allow me to say what I have observed. You are clearly intelligent and courageous. You were respectful to my people on Aya and in our short time together, I have watched you risk your own life to rescue others you do not know and who you owe nothing. I do not know all of the roles a 'Pathfinder' is expected to do, but I imagine you are doing it. Cora will understand, in time."

She stared at him in stunned silence. Shit, she _really_ wished she had closed her helmet. 

"I see you also do not receive affirmation well," Jaal mused, peering at her throat again.

"Ummmm." _Project confidence!_ "Uhhhh. Wow." _Get it together or shut up!_ "Thank you, Jaal. I appreciate your words. Your words are very kind."

If he noticed she was speaking like a VI unit, he was kind enough to not mention it. "You're welcome, Ryder."

SAM crackled to life externally, for both of their benefits. "Pathfinder. The temperature is dropping. It is time to return to the Nomad."

"Got it, SAM. Thanks." She retracted her hand from his grip and pulled in one last deep breath of air, but she didn't feel the same clawing tension she had when she first came outside. The next statement she directed to Jaal. "Let's get back inside."

He gestured towards the vehicle. "After you, Pathfinder. I'm right behind you."

Ryder hesitated for only a moment – she knew should bring up the rear in this situation – but it wasn't worth the confrontation. She went back to the Nomad and carefully opened the hatch, for fear Drack would leap into action, but he was dead asleep with shotguns in both hands. She climbed into the driver's seat and checked to make sure all of her weapons were operational while Jaal climbed into the back. While she was counting the ammunition for her rifle, she startled to attention from a hand on her shoulder. 

"Ryder." Jaal's voice was low and measured, like he was approaching a wild animal. Her nerves really were fried. Which meant – oh, she knew what was coming. "Get some sleep. I will keep watch."

This was also something she should argue against, but her own actions proved him right. 

"Thank you," is all she said, all she had to offer. He received it graciously, nodding.

Drack snorted beside him, shuffling in his sleep, cradling one of the shotguns.

Ryder pulled away and burrowed into her seat, crossing her arms over her chest. She thought about activating her helmet one last time, and then dropped the thought and simply shut her eyes. 


	2. II. Aya, The Tempest

When the hatch to the Tempest started to open, Ryder watched Moshae Sjefa take a tentative breath of Aya's crisp air. She closed her eyes involuntarily, overcome with emotion, and Ryder looked away respectfully. She wanted to offer a word of kindness but didn't know what to say. They were still not on solid ground after Ryder had taken Jaal's side over hers in the facility, and this didn't seem the moment to invade. Jaal was by the Moshae's side in an instant, offering a reassuring arm. She grasped it warmly. The conflict between those two had clearly been shorter lived.

Ryder looked back at her gathered crew. She spotted a blade strapped to Drack's belt and, in alarm, skewered him with her eyes. He pretended not to notice. She looked to Vetra next to him, who nodded ever so slightly and slipped it off of him, passing it behind her to Liam. Liam, of course, pantomimed strapping the knife to his belt. Ryder pointed two fingers at her own eyes and forked them back at him, trying to contain this situation before any of the Angaran saw, and he finally placed it silently on a nearby desk. She breathed a sigh of relief. She sometimes felt she had a team of bumbling fools - herself included - but occasionally they could really pull off something spectacular.

She turned to the Moshae. Accomplishing _t_ _his_ had been something spectacular. Ryder knew there would likely be more bad days than good, but she was determined to make this a good day.

Ready to return to her people, Moshae Sjefa seemed to steady herself. She dropped Jaal's arm and stepped down the ramp, her gait even, her steps assured. She showed no sign of the pain inflicted on her body, pain that she had been recovering from even mere hours ago. This was a woman - a _leader_ \- who refused to show even a sliver of weakness in this moment of victory.

Ryder waited for Jaal to start following the Moshae, to lead the group of Milky Way visitors (Ambassadors? Soldiers? What was the right word for what they were to the Angara?). Instead, he tossed a cool glance over his shoulder, and his eyes found Ryder's. There was a question in them, something she was trying to parse out, when she noticed he had put his arm out to the side. For a fleeting moment, she thought he was offering his arm for her to take as he had with the Moshae. Of all things, this put into her mind a Victorian couple being presented at a ball. She banished this silliness from her head, blaming it on stress of having to stumble through another awkward diplomatic encounter with the Angara. 

Jaal crooked his fingers at her, the gesture so subtle she almost missed it. She realized in that instant: he was asking her to stand by his side, to walk together as a unified front. Ryder stepped up beside him and she caught the barest traces of a smile before he too straightened up. Head up, shoulders back, the two of them took their first steps together, following the Moshae.

Something had happened between them. Ryder still didn't know how best to describe it. An... intense moment, of sorts. It had been in the Kett facility. Ryder, Jaal, and Drack had torn through room after room, Jaal's desperation a palpable thing. She had tasted it in the back of her throat, knew he was too close to the edge. The horror of what was happening in that building had been clear to Ryder, but she had refused to voice it. It was beyond comprehension. It couldn't possibly be true. Then they had been momentarily overwhelmed, and she had the blood and heat of battle to distract her, to buy her a few more minutes of ignorance.

But then.

Jaal, kneeling over the recently-exalted ( _No. No._ She refused to use that word. _Mutated)_ corpse of a Kett. His shoulders wracked with sobs. His face twisted, his eyes unfocused. Ryder was catapulted into her past, reliving her days as a peacekeeper in the Alliance military. She had seen that face before, knew he was about to go under. She had scrambled down next to him and grasped his shoulder, feeling him trembling in her grip. She had said the only things she knew to say, the things she had consoled soldiers with as they died a billion lightyears from home.

"Hey," she had said, quietly, intently. He had given no sign of hearing her. "Hey, I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere. We're going to get through this. Hey. I'm right here. We're going to get through this. I'm not going anywhere."

She had repeated these phrases like a prayer, trying to bring him back. Jaal had finally noticed her, tilting his face in her direction, and she had nearly buckled at his expression. Something fundamental had shattered within him, and she hadn't known if she could gather up the pieces in time to save him and the Moshae.

He had lifted one arm and reached for her then, floundering like a man drowning, and she had grabbed onto his hand, still repeating her mantra. He had curled into her slightly, his shaking transforming into a type of vibration, a staccato rhythm of electricity that seemed like morse code. But it was morse code that she felt in every atom of her being. She had kept talking, closing her eyes.

Ryder had imagined containers. In one, she placed the nightmarish truth about the Kett, shut the lid, and put it away. In another, she placed the heart-wrenching agony she felt for Jaal, and whatever literal electricity was happening between them right now. She shut the lid, and put it away. These were long-term problems. She had only had time for the immediate. 

When she had opened her eyes, Jaal had stilled. The electricity had stopped. He took a shuddering breath and moved away from her, standing and drawing his weapon. He towered over her, his eyes focused but dark as the night sky. Blearily, she wondered if he would try to kill her; if somehow she had humiliated him. This would have been unfortunate, because she knew she could kill him first, but he had only extended his hand to help her up. Some tectonic shift had occurred in the foundation of their relationship. It would never be the same.

"Thank you," he had said hoarsely. "We must go now and find the Moshae."

Now, she glanced briefly at his profile, but he was looking straight ahead. He was so somber, burdened with the weight of knowledge. Ryder looked forward again, seeing the oncoming processional of Angara, Paaran Shie and Evfra in the lead. The two groups met and Ryder and Jaal stopped, a respectful distance back.

"Is that your version of a handshake?" Ryder asked quietly, watching the Moshae greet her people. "I feel bad that you learned ours. You could have shown me."

"Our greeting is reserved between _javegara."_ Her translator missed the word, and she hummed in a questioning tone. He glanced at her. "Friends."

"Oh." 

A few beats of silence passed between them. Then, he added, "I will demonstrate it to you later."

Ryder tried, and failed, to conceal her smile. She realized she was going to miss him, this aggravating whirlwind of emotion and vulnerability. They had rescued the Moshae; she needed to go to Aya's vault, and then their time together would be at an end.

As if she could read her thoughts, Moshae Sjefa beckoned them forward. "I am here today, returned to our glorious planet, thanks to the work of the Human Pathfinder."

Ryder bowed her head slightly in gratitude, using the motion to conceal her shock. She could not believe the Moshae was publicly declaring herself to be an ally, especially after Ryder had refused to destroy the facility at the cost of the Angaran prisoners. She pulled it together. "I could not have done it without the efforts of my team, your Resistance soldiers, and of course Jaal Ama Davar. It was a fortuitous partnership all around. We are just happy that Moshae Sjefa is safe."

Paaran beamed, impressed, but Evfra glared openly at her. The Moshae put her hand on Paaran's arm, pulling her towards Ryder. "We can take you to Aya's vault whenever you are ready, Pathfinder."

Ryder smiled. "Thank you. But we can afford to wait. If you need to gather your strength, there will be time enough."

"Thank you, Pathfinder. I imagine I will see you shortly," Moshae Sjefa said, peering at her closely, but she left willingly with Paaran.

Evfra came forward, and it was only then that Ryder realized Jaal was no longer beside her. He had stepped behind her, taking up a place at her right shoulder. 

The Resistance leader looked passed Ryder entirely, addressing Jaal. "Good work. Report back to HQ and we can discuss a new assignment for you."

Jaal cleared his throat. "I have decided to stay with the Pathfinder. I think our work with the Kett is of the utmost importance"

Ryder resisted every urge to whip around. _When had he decided to stay with the Pathfinder??_ She suddenly realized that Jaal had positioned her like a shield in front of him; was this the first time he had ever disobeyed a direct order from his commander?

Finally, Evfra deigned to look down at Ryder. She so wished she was taller. "Well, _Pathfinder,"_ he said drily, laying as much disdain as possible over the words. "Is Jaal welcome with your... crew?"

Ryder painted the most diplomatic smile she could muster onto her face, dazzling and wide. She hoped her eyes screamed, _fuck you._ "He is an incredible addition to my team. I don't think we could manage without him."

Evfra snorted. "This doesn't seem a surprise. Permission granted. Come back to HQ with me so we can debrief on Voeld, though," he said, already walking away.

Jaal took a few steps forward, paused, and turned towards Ryder. "Don't leave without me," he whispered to Ryder, and lifted his arm. She mimicked what she had seen the Angara do, and he smiled lightly. "You have room for improvement. You will get there in time," he told her, and was off.

\-------------

Ryder, hoping to score points with the Angarans, was appreciatively perusing their armor when Liam burst into the marketplace. 

"Ryder! I need your help."

His face was lit up and enthusiastic, so he clearly wasn't in mortal danger. That did not mean _she_ wasn’t. "What have you done now?" she asked, only slightly accusatory. 

Liam rolled his eyes in mock exasperation. "Why is it always something I've done? I'm trying to do a good thing! I need you to develop some armor for me. It's for a diplomatic effort with Jaal and the Angara, now that he's sticking around."

Many of the Angara around them turned around at this, so Ryder grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the crowd, smiling in their general direction in what she hoped was a reassuring way. Ryder was determined to not cause a single scene, which was proving to be a challenge already. Her shipmates seemed hell bent on destruction, or at the very least, shenanigans. She shot a warning look to Vetra as she walked by, and the Turian didn't even bother looking guilty, despite the fact they both knew she had tried to swipe one of those fancy Angaran fruits earlier.

Once she judged them to be out of earshot, she released him. 

"What are you up to? These people are still reeling from finding out they _are_ the Kett, and you know how poorly Jaal took it. This better not be a prank."

"It's not a prank! Shit, _Pathfinder_ , I'm not a monster. Of course, I know he's down!" Liam crossed his arms and frowned. He was not often put-off, and when he was, it wasn't for very long. He had a natural buoyancy, and it was only a matter of moments before he uncrossed them and seemed to re-inflate. "I think this will be good for him and good for all of us in the long run. Just trust me."

She relented then, his optimism infectious. There was no stopping Liam once he started, and it was easier to go along. Plus, she knew that Jaal and Liam had established some sort of _bro_ -y friendship, and it was a remarkably tender thing. Though she shouldn't be surprised; Ryder secretly believed they were probably the two softest people on the Tempest.

"Fine. What do you need?"

Liam pulled up his communicator and typed quickly. "I'm sending you a blueprint. Could you make this for me and bring it to my room later?"

Her own device chirped, and she loaded his request. It did seem to actually be armor, Initiative armor even, and not at all a flamethrower in disguise. "Alright, alright. I'll make it when I get back to the ship."

Liam pumped one fist, a perfect freeze-frame movie ending. Ryder had to resist rolling her eyes. "Yes! Excellent! Do you know where he is?"

"Last I heard, he went to Resistance HQ. But if you go there be careful with Evfra because he-"

But Liam had already dashed off. 

"...hates us. Okay, dismissed," she muttered lamely. She returned to the marketplace, where Vetra was gave her a sly look. At least her hands were empty of fruit.

"You know whatever he has planned is probably a disaster."

Ryder sighed as she looked back over at the armor. _That really is a nice set._ "Oh good. And I thought we were being discreet. But I know, I know. Hopefully it's a good disaster." And hopefully it would be a good disaster for Jaal. Ryder couldn't forget what she had seen in the facility at Voeld.

She shook her head to clear it, walking up to the merchant, a picture of professional benevolence. _Be a good disaster, at least. Please._

\-------------

Liam reached under his workbench and pulled out an arm casing. "Sweet! We almost have the full set. Sara should be coming down with the last piece soon."

Jaal held a leg casing, completely absorbed. He could not begin to fathom human anatomy, and his mind was whirring with questions. "Your bone structure is so strange... how do you keep your balance..." Then, finally comprehending what had been said, he looked over at Liam. "I thought Ryder did not like being called by her first name?"

Liam shrugged lightly, dismissing her stance in that one simple gesture. He opened his mouth to begin an explanation, and then closed it. Finally, he said: "Eh. It's complicated."

Jaal considered Liam briefly, working over the puzzle in his mind. A thought occurred to him, and he burst out, "Oh! You're in love with her!"

Liam sputtered through a laugh, smacking Jaal on the back when he had recovered. "Can you _imagine!_ No, no, not at all. We're friends, we used to be good friends, the three of us. Her and Scott and me. And we still are, I guess- well, her and me- but after all the shit that happened with Alec- I don't know. It's hard to explain." He scratched the back of his neck. "I mean, you've been with her a lot. You know how when you're in the real thick of it, like… bullets flying everywhere, she's fun?"

"You're saying she's more enjoyable in mortal danger?"

"That sounds awful! But yeah, kinda." He sighed, collecting the chest piece from his armory closet. “She's more herself, or how I knew her before she became Pathfinder. When she's back on the ship, she tries to be _The Pathfinder,_ you know? But I have genius plan to lighten things up a bit. 

Jaal gave him a quizzical glance. He opened his mouth to say that he did not actually understand what Liam meant, because he did not notice a difference between the quarrelsome and compassionate Ryder whom he knew both on and off the ship, but was interrupted by Liam dropping the armor in front of Jaal.

"Okay, here you go," Liam said happily. He eyed the clothing around Jaal's shoulders. "Can I wear your cape thing?"

"My _r_ _ofjinn_? No, it's precious to me."

"Like it's religious?"

"It's familial, it signifies members of my family." Jaal saw the look of sadness pass over Liam's face like a shadow. He relented, trying to think of alternatives. "You could wear it if you married someone in my family and joined us."

"Oh sweet, got any hot sisters?"

"I do not know how to respond to that," Jaal replied, but there was humor in his smile. "Perhaps I'll make you your own."

Liam heard voices outside his room; Ryder had stopped to talk to Cora on the way. "Show time!" He pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it onto the couch, and then jogged to the back of the room to find where he had left his helmet. "Put whatever you are comfortable sharing on the workbench and whatever you don't want me to touch on the couch," he called over his shoulder, kicking aside some forgotten laundry. 

"What is your... genius plan?" Jaal asked, and Liam could hear the rustling of clothing. 

"A movie night! Nothing brings people together like a good movie night." He spotted the helmet half-hidden under his bed and reached down to grab it. "Although I haven't decided if we should watch something really good or really ba-"

When he turned around Jaal was standing there wearing a pleasant expression, and nothing else. Liam gawked, face filling with glee.

Jaal became confused. He had never seen Liam appear so shocked and so delighted, and wondered if he had made some sort of mistake. "Is something wrong?"

"Oh no, big man, nothing is wrong. _This_ might lighten things up. Stay right there behind the bench." 

The door chimed. Ryder had requested access. Liam grinned madly and opened the door. 

\-------------

Ryder stepped in, carrying the armor. "Alright Liam, what have you got-"

She stopped dead away; her face was absolutely frozen in astonishment. She looked back and forth between them, opening and closing her mouth, but was completely beyond words.

Finally, she doubled over and laughed. It was like a dam bursting. There was nothing cute about it. She clutched the armor to her chest and laughed until she thought her lungs would burst. When she straightened back up her face was shining. 

"I'm _sorry_ , am I interrupting something?" she asked, voice full of mischief. She could not believe the scene in front of her: Liam and Jaal, apparently having a casual shirtless hang-out session. Is this what boys did together? Had Liam inflicted his near-maddening tendency to never wear a shirt on Jaal as much of a cultural exercise?

Liam faked nonchalance. "Jaal and I were examining each other's armor. We are trying to figure out our cultures, ya know, get to the real meat of the situation. You have to really get in there to understand." 

Ryder shook her head, extending the armor as if to ward off whatever he was going to say next. "Stop, please. My heart can't take it. Jaal, are you okay? Did he pressure you into this?"

"No, Ryder, I think this idea is fantastic. There is so much to learn about your species, and the mechanics of your equipment helps me understand more about humans on a functional level. Although, I do not understand what humorous thing has occurred here."

"Oh, you sweet innocent angel."

He looked even more confused. "What is an ‘angel’?"

"Uhhh." Shit. She scratched her cheek, considering how to explain it. "It's a word from some earth religions. It's also a term of endearment, for something pure and wholesome."

He clearly didn't fully comprehend, but at least understood it was a kind comment. She stepped forward and extended the leg casing towards him. "Here's the last piece, so you guys can get on with your 'diplomatic effort' or whatever it is you're calling this."

"Thank you, Ryder," Jaal said, stepping around the bench and reaching for the armor. 

The following likely occurred in about ten seconds, but it felt like ten lifetimes. She knew, even then, that this moment would be burned into her memory for the remainder of her living days. No matter what happened later, this is what would always haunt her: in many literal gun-to-her-head, life-or-death moments, she had kept her cool and been a stone cold badass. 

In this moment she was so shocked, she dropped the armor. 

It clanged to the floor, but did she even hear it? Probably not, since she thought her soul had left her body. Jaal stood there looking perplexed and a little worried, and oh my God, don't look down, oh my God, _too late, oh my God-_

Ryder clapped a hand over her mouth but that didn't stop her staring, so she did the last rational thing she could think of and clapped her other hand over her eyes. In the blessed darkness all she could hear was a ringing in her ears. She wanted to say something, anything normal - or maybe she wanted the sweet relief of death. It was a 50/50 split.

Liam was talking but she couldn't hear it. Somehow this was his doing, and she was going to _destroy him_. Shifting whatever the hell she was feeling over to anger felt good, it felt way easier to understand, so she took a very deep breath, focused on that, and lowered her hands. 

Jaal was still standing there, certainly looking concerned, but something else, too. Contemplation? His eyes traveled from her throat up to her cheeks, which didn't help the color already flooding her face, and she suddenly feared that he was going to say something. She couldn't handle it. She had to stop him.

She took a preemptive step back and maintained the most direct eye contact of her life. "I am so sorry. I don't... I don't know why I reacted like that. I'm sorry if I embarrassed you." Ryder hoped that was enough of an explanation. If he asked his usual barrage of follow-up questions, she would simply perish. 

He inclined his head respectfully. "Angara don't embarrass easily. I am still learning how humans react to certain situations." He glanced at Liam. "I left one of my weapons in my quarters. I will retrieve it and return."

Ryder nodded politely to him and then fixed her gaze on Liam with the intensity of someone clinging to a lifeboat. A lifeboat that held someone she was going to push into the unforgiving sea. Liam was grinning with his entire face. She continued to look only at Liam as Jaal passed, and she breathed a tiny sigh of relief that he didn't say anything to her as he walked by. She waited until she heard the door hiss open and shut. Outside, a commotion began: she heard Gil laughing and whooping and Peebee emit a delighted shriek. 

Judging the coast to be clear she advanced on Liam. "What the hell was that!!"

"What the hell is _this!_ Damn, Sara, do you even have any blood left in your body or is it all in your face?"

"Did you put him up to that?!"

"No, he did that himself! He told you, they don't embarrass easily. I thought that only applied to his questions but _clearly_ he's not embarrassed about _anything._ "

"I'm going to murder you. I'm going to leave you in an open grave and hope some weird dinosaur alien eats your corpse." She rubbed her face, which was still hot under her hands. " _Liam,_ you son of a bitch. I cannot believe you set me up like that. I’m still trying to convince his people to trust us. You would not believe the things I have gone through with that guy and I have to see him later when-"

"Oh, I think you already _saw_ plenty-"

" _No._ No! Never speak of this. It just- it startled me!" How had she lost control of this situation? Liam was clearly enjoying himself. Ryder picked up the armor and chucked it at him. "You are coming onto Havarl with us when we land, and I hope you're excited to spend your days tramping around looking for debris to tag. And that's if I don't murder you, which I still might!"

Liam leaned surreptitiously towards her. "Is someone trying to get some alone time with-"

Ryder punched him on the shoulder, hard, but when he stumbled back, he was laughing. Seeing no way to recover, she turned on her heel and left. When Liam's door slid shut behind her, she could still hear him laughing. 


	3. III. The Tempest

Jaal filled the doorway to the tech lab, and Ryder looked up from her data pad, a forkful of noodles halfway to her mouth.

"Well hello Ryder, my friend. It is fancy to have met you here." Jaal beamed triumphantly, proud of his use of the human colloquialism.

Ryder did not have the heart to correct him on the phrasing, knowing that her language was already a complex enough thing to even understand. Plus, it was not often that she saw him express pride. Was this an Angaran thing? Or a Jaal thing? Either way, it was a huge improvement over his more recent states.

He had wandered the Tempest like specter the first days after coming back abroad. They had gone back to Havarl, ostensibly to finish a few projects for the scientists and look for further clues about the Turian ark, but Ryder had wanted to bring him back to his home world, hoping it would be a comfort. It had helped marginally. Finally, Lexi had corralled him in the med-bay for a deep psychological debrief for half of day. When he had emerged he was not entirely whole, but a sum of new parts; it was unlikely he would ever be the same. But how could he be?

"Hello, Jaal," she greeted, putting her food aside. "Where did you learn that one from?" 

He came over to where she was, perched on the desk beneath the screens, and she shifted to make room in case he planned on sitting beside her. But he stood to the side of her, so close she could have bumped him with her knee. This was a development she hadn't gotten used to yet. Jaal had _no_ sense of personal space, and he took up a lot of it whenever he was near. 

His proximity reminded her, unbidden, of what she thought of as _The Armor Incident_. She banished these thoughts from her mind immediately, putting them under lock and key. By no small miracle, he had not yet mentioned what had occurred in Liam's room, and thankfully, she had not tracked any changes in his behavior towards her afterwards.

"I heard it from one of Liam's human vid clips. It seems to be used for when you are not surprised to see someone, and I am not surprised to see you because you come here so often."

Ryder felt caught, but he wasn't even wrong. She was frequently in the tech lab; even before he arrived, it had always been a place she felt more comfortable being in, as opposed to the Pathfinders' Quarters. It also had the added advantage of being near common space where her shipmates often milled about, and if she kept the door open, she could keep an ear out for whatever schemes Drack, Peebee, Vetra, and Liam inevitably conjured up. 

"Sorry. I know it's your room now. I can stop coming in here if it bothers you."

Ryder moved to slide down from her perch, and Jaal put out a hand to stop her. He held it there, hovering in the space in front of her torso. _This_ was a change, she realized. Jaal had resisted touching her outside of combat since their farewell on Aya. Was this because the Kett facility? The Armor Incident? Another reason entirely? The worst part is that she knew she could ask, and he wouldn't hesitate to answer, but every imaginable answer complicated their newfound friendship.

"Please do not feel unwelcome here on my account. Your presence is an honor; it fills the space for you to simply be here. "

Ryder pulled back, thrown off-balance by his remark. He caught her look and a glint of humor touched his eyes.

"What is that other human phrase? About 'proximity to power'? The Pathfinder is constantly my room, that will certainly elevate my status before I usurp you and take over the ship."

"Hey!" She snapped, shocked to find herself laughing. "First off, you're in _my_ room. These are all my rooms, and this happens to be my favorite. Second off, your jokes need work! Threatening your superior is not your best material."

"My jokes work because they are based in truth. You believe I still might kill you at any second."

"That's not true!" Ryder didn't feel the need to add _anymore_. That window of opportunity had passed when Jaal decided of his own volition to stay with her team. He was many things, but she did not think 'capable of a long-term assassination plot' was one of them. 

Jaal crossed his arms, looking at her down the bridge of his nose. He was incredulous, distance returning to his stance as he judged her words to be false. "You still check me for a weapon every time we are in the same space alone together."

Ryder drew her eyebrows together, not knowing what he was referencing. She knew he frequently kept a dagger on his hip but he rarely carried his rifle outside of combat, but when had she last checked him for — and then mortification flooded her system. He hadn't noticed her checking for weapons. _H_ _e_ _had noticed her checking him out._

Jaal's lips turned upwards, his shoulders relaxing slightly, and if this bastard didn't look a little _smug_ at calling her out. Ryder thought there was one way to salvage this situation before he realized her actual intentions. She leaned towards him, and his eyes widened a fraction, his arms loosening — and then she darted one hand out and snatched the dagger he kept on him. A good lift would have involved never touching him, but she couldn't resist skimming her fingers against his hip. Ryder turned the blade around handle-first and offered it back to him with an innocent smile.

"I check everyone for weapons. It's an old habit," she said, disguising her blunder with a different truth. Jaal accepted his blade, still watching her, but he seemed satisfied by this exchange. 

He moved away and Ryder relaxed, taking a brief moment when his back was turned to chastise herself silently. This more or less boiled down to her pointing at herself and mouthing, _"Stop it. Stop it!"_

He turned back towards her and she was smiling brightly. Picking up her noodles again, she held them up in offering. "Want some?"

He physically moved away. "I appreciate your offer, Ryder, but your food is... how do I put this..." He seemed to be struggling to remain polite. "...flavorless."

Ryder ate a fork full of noodles in protest of his declaration. "You're happier with the gross paste then?"

Jaal was aghast, and Ryder couldn't help but wonder why she was antagonizing him. Shouldn't she be trying to maintain a professional relationship? But when she looked at him standing across from her, an actual hand on the base of his throat that put her in mind of clutching imaginary pearls, his eyes bright with delight and outrage - she felt he finally came into focus. He was not his projected shield of an icy soldier, but a sharp and brilliant boy. The ground was shifting. She could throw him off balance, too. 

"It's a matter of biology!" He argued. "Humans and Angara have different taste receptors. Our food is delicious _and_ highly nutritious." He gestured at her noodles. "That, if you could even truly label it as sustenance, is nothing in comparison. Your palate is simply not attuned to our diets."

"Well, I'm glad you have nutrients. I will keep my salt." 

He hummed discontentedly, deeming Ryder a lost cause, and turned his back on her to go his section of personal belongings. Unsurprisingly, it was highly neat and organized, a tidy collection of clothing, bottles, weapons, and plants. He began shuffling through the cloth and Ryder went back to her data pad, thinking he had dropped the conversation. 

"Maybe one day I will study your tongue in depth, and we can discover where the breakdown is."

Ryder inhaled her noodles on a gasp, but fucking _refused_ to cough and draw his attention. She did not need him to turn around and see her choking to death from shock, her face reddening from the effort of swallowing and comprehending his words. _Did Jaal just hit on me?_ She thought, her heart picking up like she was heading into a fight. _No way. Hell no._

She was reading way too into it, she decided. How did Angara even flirt? Did he understand the layered message he had just communicated? No way. She kept trying to put her feelings into a container, but they kept being too big. _Just stop, Sara!_

Ryder finally gained control, just in time for Jaal to turn around and sit at a desk, arms piled with cloth, needles, and string.

She managed a controlled swallow."Are you making something?"

"Yes. I am making Liam his own _rofjinn_.” Jaal said a word her translator didn't pick up but gestured to what hung around his shoulders. "He expressed interest, and I wanted to give him something in appreciation of his friendship."

Ryder, recovered from her near-death-by-noodle experience, found she was touched by his generosity. It felt like most days she couldn’t get her shipmates to share the kitchen, let alone their personal belongings. Vetra still wouldn’t even split the contraband snacks she was openly hoarding in her room. But Jaal, the newest person aboard, was the most unselfish. _Is he trying to bribe his way into good favor?_ she wondered, watching him stitch contentedly. The answer, though obvious, was even more surprising to her: he was simply _kind._

"I think he'll love it,” she remarked, unable to keep a touch of wonder from her voice, unable to keep the container from spilling over. 

“I hope so. I’ve never made one for a human… your shoulders are… small.”

Ryder laughed. “His are pretty big for a human. He needs all the support he can get for his big head.”

Jaal looked up, his face quizzical. “His head is larger than the average human’s?”

“Ah, damn.” Ryder had been trying to be better about human colloquiums, but they kept slipping out. And putting her in uncomfortable spots as she struggled to explain. “A ‘big head’ means he thinks he’s really incredible. As in, his head is swollen with his self-importance.” That sounded terrible. “It’s a friendly insult?”

"Angara have a similar phrase: _vehshaanan_. It is a little crude, though."

"Hmm, you're right. That might offend my fragile disposition. I have been known to swoon, be warned."

"Your warning is received." He actually put one long leg out and scooted his mattress to beneath her, and his face was so serious that she couldn't tell if he had misunderstood her sarcasm or was dedicated to the bit. "In your language, it would be, 'one who is proud of his own shit.' So, unrelated to skull size, but similar in meaning."

She nodded in appreciation. "I'll add that to my repertoire. It's always good to have more insults." She returned to her data pad. They worked in comfortable silence for a while. The gentle rhythm of his needle piercing the cloth, his sure hands working deftly over the fabric, created a very peaceful soundtrack to her work. Ryder was immersed in reports from Eos, somehow the person responsible for maintaining the equilibrium of the colony. She was neck-deep in medical supply requests when Jaal spoke up again. "Ryder, why is this your favorite room?"

"Hmm?" She barely heard him. The Kett were establishing strongholds, they were going to need to deal with that soon. 

"You said this was your favorite room. Why is that? Or is this too personal of a question for your fragile disposition?"

She dismissed his admittedly sick burn with a wave of her hand. Still looking at her data pad, Ryder said distractedly, "Mmm, a couple reasons. One of which is that it feels like home. I was a researcher in a past life." 

Realizing what she said, she looked up to see his baffled expression. "Oh, shit! I keep doing this. I didn't mean that literally, sorry. It's just a thing that humans say. I meant, I was a researcher originally, before becoming Pathfinder." Worrying that she might have hurt him, she tried to change the subject. "Do you have any memories from your past lives?"

Jaal became wistful and returned to his project. "Sometimes I think I will never fully grasp your human language. But yes. In my most recent life I was a _voneraan_... how would you say it...a star studier. A great one, well-renowned." He paused, his gaze unfocused. Some shadowed curtain descended, the sadness stealing over him. "Sometimes it is difficult to carry this weight. I come from an exceptional family; my sisters and brothers have achieved greatness, but there is nothing at which I am truly great.”

Ryder felt the first flickers of anger rise in her, not at him, but at the lie rooted in his soul. How could he not see all he had done? “Jaal, what do you mean? Aren’t you an accomplished soldier in the Resistance? It’s not as if you’ve done nothing.”

“But am I in this position because I earned it or because I am revered in association? Am I successful for my own talent and skill, or merely because I fell in the privileged shadow of others’ success?”

Ryder shifted uncomfortably; she did not want to allow time for his words to echo in her own head. "Look. I don’t know your family, and I think you’re impressive. Didn't you help rescue your Moshae? And take down a bunch of Kett facilities?"

He considered this. "I did this with a group. It was not something I did alone."

"So! Do you think we could have done it without you?"

When she saw the look on his face, she ground her teeth. She wanted to shake this narrative out of him. "Jaal, don't be daft. You are necessary. You're a great shot and you have thoughtful strategy and- and- you're our best communicator!"

At this, he finally relaxed. "I am certainly the best communicator. However, this is assisted by the fact I'm surrounded by people who do not seem to know how to express their emotions in a way that is not shooting something."

"Hey now, some of us also have jokes." Ryder thought about this. "Drack will also use his fists. And Peebee will try to flirt her way out of any real conversation."

"I have noticed that. It's how she engages with most of my most of my questions."

"Well hey!" Ryder smiled genuinely. This was the perfect solution to her problem re: her ridiculous crush ( _ugh like a school child_ ). She promptly ignored the parts of her that fought this logic. "If you like her, she might actually be interested. Under all of her ‘no-attachments’ posturing, she is probably very sweet."

Jaal chuckled to himself, gazing down at his cloth. "I am not interested in her." He looked up then and caught her eye, and a shock traveled through her spine. This was not the look of someone riffing with her. This was a look of someone who wanted to _know_ her. She had seen it on the faces of people sitting beside her in bars, before she took them to bed.

_Shit,_ she thought, electric. _I think he_ is _hitting on me._

She looked down, breaking eye contact. She had suddenly found herself at a crossroads. The least complicated thing to do would be to bypass this new conversational avenue, and go down the easy path. She should drop it. She knew should she drop it.

Ryder did not drop it.

"Are Angara...are your people allowed to have relationships with other species?"

She was staring at the numbers on her data pad without reading them. From the corner of her eye, she could see that he was watching her, but she didn't look at him. 

"You are the first species we met, and with you all the others. So, I do not know what our laws would decree. But for myself, I do not see a problem."

Ryder simply nodded. The waiting silence stretched between them, languid and taut. It was time to face this. She had no idea what she was going to say, but she trusted her gut in the moment. She inhaled slowly and looked up at him, but he was still giving her that /look/. She faltered. She couldn't do this to him, it was her responsibility to stop it.

"Ryder-"

"I should go. We'll be docking at the Nexus soon and I need to get some things in order for Addison." She slid off the desk and onto the floor. She was fleeing the scene of the crime, and she knew it. She just needed a chance to screw her courage to the sticking post. "Good luck on your project, Jaal."

"Of course, my friend." But he did not return to his cloth. She couldn't bear to see what his expression slid into, so she turned to head out the doorway.

"Ryder?"

She turned in the doorway and raised her eyebrows in answer. He was looking at her so earnestly, the same look he'd given her on Voeld when he'd enveloped her hand, when they had first really spoken. It was an invitation, gently offered, and she felt a twist in her gut. 

"What is the other reason that you enjoy being in this room?"

Ryder paused, glancing out. Drack and Vetra were carrying on a conversation in low tones, engrossed in what they were doing. She couldn't handle an audience for this shitshow she was orchestrating, and was grateful they were so far off.

Ryder looked back at Jaal and gave him the briefest half-smile, sad and strange.

"You're usually in here.”

Before he could respond, she tapped on the doorframe. "See you soon," she said, and was gone. 


	4. IV. The Tempest

Ryder stormed into her quarters, breathing heavily. "SAM!" she barked out. "Is this room soundproof?" She could barely hear her own voice over the blood pounding in her ears.

SAM crackled to life. "No, Pathfinder, but if you give me a moment I can do so." 

She paced the ground, looking for something to destroy. Her terminal? Irresponsible. Her wardrobe? It would be a hassle to explain. She ended up by the windows and looked at her own reflection: shoulders set, face dark with fury, exhaustion slashing lines beneath her eyes. Control had spun away from her, a fickle friend, and she was left with nothing but anger. Anger, and a keening desire to forcibly remove the the tightness clawing through her chest.

"This room is now soundproof, Pathfinder."

She looked down at her hands. Her fingertips and palms were calloused from years in combat, the nail beds recently torn jagged and short. One thin gold ring circled on the middle finger of her left hand. 

Ryder balled her hands into fists and looked back into the window. She threw her left elbow back and slammed her fist into the glass.

Some of the bones in her knuckles crunched as the blow reverberated up her arm. Pain seared through her hand, hot and bright. She wasn't sure when she started screaming, but she definitely was now.

Ryder staggered back and sat heavily on the bed, staring listlessly at her damaged hand. Adrenaline coursed through her body, numbing the pain slightly. It would be horrendous later if she didn't do anything, but she couldn't manage to stand up just yet. Her anger hadn't dissipated, but it was smothered by humiliation. Tears dripped onto her swelling knuckles, and she felt so foolish.

The door chirped. 

"Shit! SAM, whose there?"

"It is Jaal, Pathfinder."

"Shit," she repeated, rubbing at her face quickly with her good hand. Of course. _Of course_. This was the last thing she wanted. He was the only shipmate who wouldn't take the hint and leave.

"How do I look?" She asked, wondering if she could hide this moment of weakness. 

"Extremely emotionally distressed, Pathfinder."

Ryder groaned and smacked her cheeks a few times. Judging that to be the best she could do, she went to the door and keyed it open, preparing herself for the worst.

"Ryder, how-" Jaal cut off as he took her in face, falling silent as he studied her concernedly. Almost instinctually, he reached for her and took her hand, which she immediately jerked away with a hiss of pain. At this, a change came over him. The concern he had been displaying shifting into confusion and something else, something that brought out the hard lines between his eyes. 

Ryder realized the scope of her error then: they had all just returned from the Nexus, himself included, and she had been unharmed then. While she did occasionally spar with some of her shipmates on the Tempest, it was completely unheard of that she would leave a match in tears. The only logical conclusion he could pull from this scene would be that she had _actually_ fought someone aboard the ship, in something more personal than a practice match.

Fearing a scene in the public hallway, she grabbed his wrist with her unbroken hand. "Get in here," she muttered, pulling him into her quarters. Ryder released him when the door shut behind them, but he didn't move away.

"What happened?" he asked, still keeping his voice low.

She opened her mouth to spin some sort of completely normal reason she would be sporting both swollen eyes and a swollen hand, and couldn't even begin to think of a good excuse. Lost for words, she finally gave up and deflected. "I'm fine, everything is fine. I tripped and hurt myself. I was on my way to the med-bay when you arrived."

This was the wrong answer. Ryder had always vaguely wondered what would happen if she truly lied to Jaal, and had assumed he would simply catch it and turn it around on her, like he did when she evaded his personal questions with humor. This is not what happened. Instead, he went entirely rigid, as if the falsehood had been a physical blow. When he recovered, startling out of it like an animal awakening, he was crackling with a strange intensity. Ryder, accustomed to many different emotional displays from others, couldn't place exactly what it was.

"What you said is clearly untrue, and you have never lied to me before, Ryder. I can see that you are hurt, and... " he looked closely at her face again, trying to decipher what she was hiding. Ryder, whose head still buzzed from the cacophony of rage and embarrassment, lurched back from him and his inquisitive eyes.

"Just stop," she muttered, her hand really beginning to throb. "I'm not a specimen."

Jaal's body softened, and he took a different approach. "You are right. I trust that you will tell me-" she doubted this, at least on her end, "-but I need you trust me for just a moment. May I see your hand?"

He removed his gloves slowly, as if not making any more sudden movements around her, and tucked them away. Then he extended one hand towards her, palm up. Ryder couldn't remember if she had actually seen his hands before now; they were large, a lighter shade of the dusky purple tone of his skin, and looked surprisingly soft. Distantly, she realized he took better care of himself than she did. Figures.

"I assumed you weren't touching me," she said, meaning it as a question, but the low fury still swirling in her sharpened her words and made them sound accusatory. 

"I assumed you did not want to be touched." 

_Touché, Ama Darav._ She offered her hand like a ruined sacrifice. "All yours."

His eyes flicked up to hers.

Before she could amend or explain that sentence, he gingerly cupped her hand in one of his own, the fingers of his other hand just barely grazing over her skin. He was cool to the touch, a balm on her swollen knuckles. His fingers twitched, a light vibration building, and then her hand tingled like it had fallen asleep. Ryder drew her eyebrows together as a faint pulse beat beneath the skin, and she stared as the swelling went down before her eyes. She gasped and yanked her hand away, but she could already feel the pain receding. 

"What did you-"

Jaal grasped her upper arms and lowered his face towards hers so that they were at eye level. His grip was loose, giving her the space to bolt. "Ryder, please stop pulling away from me. I am trying to help you." 

She returned her hand to him, and he picked it up again. The tingling returned, and the relief of her bones knitting back together was immense. The fog in her mind partially lifted. "What is this?" she asked quietly.

"Angara have bioelectric capabilities. We mostly use it for communication, but we can perform low level healing." 

Something churned in her memory, but she couldn't place it at that moment.

In the quiet, Jaal continued. "What happened on the Nexus? What caused this turmoil?"

At his words, Ryder was back there. Scott's voice, optimistic and teasing. His body, prone. She tried to swallow, but her throat was dry.

"I don't know where to begin," she said eventually.

"Could you try from the beginning?" Jaal released her hand and she stretched out her fingers in appreciation. Her knuckles were sore; she was not perfectly healed, but it was a great alternative. She noted the very little space between them and knew she should increase it. His words, _I assumed you did not want to be touched,_ echoed in her mind. He had been right in a sense. This was the impression she had given him, because it was the impression she _should_ give him. 

She went to her bed and sat down facing him, turning her ring absentmindedly, taking slow breaths. He stayed where he was, almost statuesque in his stillness. 

"If the beginning feels too unmanageable," he said into her stillness, "you could start with your hand."

What was harder to explain, her sorrow or her stupidity? "I punched that window," she said, pointing over her shoulder.

Jaal looked very slowly from her to the aforementioned window. "Where there... enemies attempting to enter your quarters?"

"No. I just..." Ryder looked at the ceiling, her desk, anywhere but at the Angara waiting for this ridiculous explanation. "Physical pain is easier to manage. And it felt great to punch something, for about a millisecond."

"And after that millisecond?"

She smiled blandly, but still didn't offer any further explanation. It seemed an impossible thing to her, to put words to her grief. There was too much of it, and it had claws.

Jaal sighed, showing mercy. "Try telling me the facts of what happened."

This was more feasible. She ordered everything in her memory, separating her heart from it, and began:

"My brother is out of cryo, but he's comatose. They were able to figure out a way for us to communicate. He doesn't know anything that happened, anything that's happening. He doesn't know about Dad." She finally looked at him now, her tone steady, her face sad and defiant. "I told him the golden worlds are shit. But I lied to him about our father."

Jaal was quiet for a moment. "You told him your father is still alive?"

"What's the point of hurting him further? He's _in a coma_." She bit these words off, the rage rising in her again.

Jaal tilted his head, mulling over her words. "You are suffering and did not want him to feel the same. I do not appreciate lying, but I can see your intention in that moment. What happened to him is a tragedy, but it’s not your fault.”

Ryder shook her head. “How can you say that? All I do is gallivant across the galaxy and try to fix every problem someone hands me, and I couldn’t…" Ryder could hear her pulse beginning to thud in her ears. "He should be here! He should be here. I just… I can’t _do_ anything. I couldn’t keep him safe, but I can keep from hurting him more if I don't have to."

Jaal's frowned ever so slightly. “In the end, he will hurt no matter what. When he wakes, your father will still be dead. You granted him ignorance, not joy."

Fury flooded her system. Ryder jumped up. "I didn't ask for your self-righteous analysis.” 

He was unmoved by her attack. "Perhaps I would not have to analyze your intention if you would admit it."

Ryder snapped her jaw shut. She felt cornered. Things had gotten out of her control; she wanted Jaal out of her space, to be left alone so she could fend for herself. Ryder went stonily towards the door, intending to evict him. As she brushed passed him, he reached out and placed a tentative hand on her shoulder. When she didn't shrug it off, he spoke quietly.

"Ryder, I'm sorry. My words were too blunt, and I hurt you. But please hear me. This anger that burns inside of you will devour you whole. You think it drives you, but it consumes you."

With this, Jaal slipped his arms around her and pulled her to his chest.

Ryder stilled. Unwelcome thoughts overwhelmed her, loudest of which was the realization that the last person who hugged her was Scott, before he went into cryo. He had bragged about getting 20 minutes extra cryo sleep than her, how he would come out on the other side even younger. How she'd be ancient in comparison. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to focus on anything but that thought. Instead, she became hyperaware of her surroundings. Jaal's head was resting on top of hers and she was nestled against him, so close that she could feel his rapid heartbeat and the way his chest expanded as he breathed. He was upset, she realized. Upset or worked up in some way. They had never been this close in a non-combat setting and she was surprised to find her hands twitched instinctively to return the embrace. She kept them at her sides.

"Jaal?"

"Yes?" 

"What are you doing?"

"I am trying to soothe you. This is a common method of doing so. I know it works on humans, because I tried it successfully on Liam.”

Ryder laughed then, in spite of everything, and he released her gently and stepped back like nothing had happened. His absence did not make her feel lighter as she had expected, but the opposite; she rubbed her face again, fearing he’d see this discovery.

“I’m glad to hear we’re so consistent. I think that trick also works on pets.” Recalling what he’d said before, she added, “Anyway, I am not consumed by my anger."

"Denying the intensity of your emotions is not the same as processing them. I do not want to see you turned to ash." Jaal sighed, pulling his gloves back on. Then, as if realizing where he was for the first time, he began to wander the room. He examined every little corner with the deference of a person on sacred ground. Ryder raised her eyebrows but did not banish him. He picked up one of her ship models, the one she had taken from her father’s quarters. She wondered if somehow, he could sense that. If he was that attuned to other people's pain.

He began to speak, his words a little faster than usual, as if he was trying to outrun any of her potential protests. "Ryder, I believe you and I might have twin souls. Fatherless and fractured but slouched towards hope. While yours will burn you with your anger, mine threatens to drown me in sorrow."

Jaal had his back to her, and he glanced to the side then, caught in a moment of quiet contemplation. "I was in love once. Allia." He said her name like a prayer. "She was also a researcher. We worked on a farm together, on Aya. When she kissed me, I was hers entirely. I was young and foolish, and I thought her love was the center of my universe. My purpose. But she grew discontent with me, and when my older brother arrived, she could not resist his charm or his accolades."

“Oh no,” she blurted unintentionally. “I mean, I’m sorry. That sounds awful.”

He did not turn back to her, but she could see the ghost of a smile appear on his lips. It faded as quickly as it had arrived. "Afterward, I was heartbroken. I wandered aimlessly for months, and I thought I wouldn't survive. But I did, poorly. One day at a time. Until one day the waters of my misery receded, and I came back to myself. Afterward, I began to learn how to process these kinds of feelings. How to channel them into nondestructive paths and share the burden with others." Jaal returned the model to its place on her desk and gazed listlessly at it, far away somewhere in his mind.

"It is not simple. I still feel that tide coming in. After our experience with the Kett..." He trailed off, at a rare loss for words. 

Jaal was characteristically vulnerable, but this level of candor touched her. "Hey," Ryder said gently, and he looked back towards her. "Look, I can't imagine what you're feeling with the Kett. I might not say the right things, but if you ever need to talk about it, I will listen. I want you to be okay."

"Oh, Ryder. You do not know.... your offer is kind." He watched her for a long moment. The air between them had changed. Void of tension, a softness had snuck its way in.

Jaal seemed to collect himself, and leaned forward slightly. "We seem to have come to a crossroads of sorts, my friend. Angara do not have superficial relationships, and I do not want one with you. If I ask you personal questions right now, do you think you would be willing to answer them?"

In the aftermath of so much sound and fury, Ryder felt drained of any remaining energy to fight him. "Is this a test?"

He smiled. "Only if you fail."

"Did you just ask me to not joke and then make a joke?"

He lifted his hands in placation. "Okay, I concede, that was poorly timed. But yes. I would appreciate if you answered without your usual wit."

Ryder spread her hands before her. "Fire away."

"I'm going to assume that is in regard to questions and not a joke about your innate desire to die instead of respond to personal questions." He was looking at her hands closely. "When I was on the Nexus, I saw many humans who wear rings like that, but on a different finger. What does it mean?"

She looked down at the little gold ring, its scratches gleaming in the starlight. "It was my mother's wedding ring. Some humans exchange rings when they get married. I kept it after she died. I have Dad's, too, in case Scott wants it." 

"Were you close?"

Memories collided in her mind; Ryder could feel her mother's hand on her shoulder, could hear her humming as she walked Scott and Sara to a friend's quarters on the Citadel. Ryder wanted to hold the memories close, already knowing they would fade.

"Closer than we were to Dad. She was so smart. And much more patient," Ryder smiled softly, but her shoulders were bowed. "She would have liked you. You could have stared at each other in pleasant silence for hours."

Jaal was clearly pleased she had answered his question. "I wish I could have met her. Thank you for answering."

Ryder perked up. That hadn't been so terrible. "Did I pass your test?"

"Oh, I'm not done yet. This is the next one: who is the best crew member on the Tempest?"

She blinked at him, thrown off. This made absolutely no sense to her. Was he fishing for a compliment? Was he expecting her to believe it was herself? Jaal's face was sincere, his body still relaxed. 

"Drack," Ryder said simply. "If he had SAM, he could probably do all of this himself. We're just along with the ride."

Jaal closed his eyes and laughed quietly. "That is an honest answer. You both even have similar levels of self-preservation."

Ryder was going to attempt to refute that, but lost her words when he opened his eyes again. His gaze was dark and focused. She suddenly felt very apprehensive. 

"This is the last question. How do you feel about me?"

Her heart picked up. _No._ She shifted under his gaze but was forced herself to maintain it. "I mean, I think you're smart, and much nicer than most people, and-"

"No, Ryder," he said gently. "How do you _feel_."

This was a trap. It was the largest trap ever laid. She could not risk changing their dynamic, could not approach what this would mean for him if she told him the truth. Months of building a friendship as they trudged across planets, wasted. She wanted to lie, to preserve what they had, but she couldn't, not after everything he had said to her. 

Ryder inhaled, bracing herself for the end. "I like you… as a friend, and…” This was excruciating. She really did think she’d rather die answer this question. “And in a way that is… I think... more than friendship.”

Jaal was completely unfazed.

Stunned by his lack of a reaction, she quickly tried to figure out what that meant, and then started when realized. "You _knew!_ " she charged, a little indignant. 

He laughed at her outburst. "Yes, of course I knew. Ryder, you are one of the least subtle creatures I have ever met in my entire life. Everything you feel is right on the surface. I hope Vetra handles all of your subterfuge, and you should never play for credits in that deceit-based betting game with Gil. He would acquire all of your possessions."

"What the hell!" Ryder couldn't believe this. How long had he known? "And you were just messing with me?"

Jaal moved slowly towards her then, still keeping his hands behind his back. _He's trying not to touch me,_ she realized in a flash.

"No, dear one. I was waiting to see if you would ever tell me, but it became clear you thought you could just avoid ever acknowledging it." His eyes fell to her throat, and from the faint curve of his lips she knew she must be flushed again. "Why didn't you ever say anything?"

Ryder threw her hands up. "Jaal, I made first contact with your people. You said it yourself, there's no precedent for non-Angaran relationships. And I am not exactly low profile; I'm in your museum, which is crazy, and we should probably talk to Avela because I think she thinks my name is Ryder Human Pathfinder.”

She fidgeted with the ring on her left hand, annoyed to have found herself so flustered. “But more importantly, you have a large portion of your people who are incredibly wary and hostile towards mine, for valid reasons, and another portion that openly wants to destroy us. The former includes the head of the organization you're a part of, which you’ll return to after this is over. I was worried it would make your life even more difficult to add in," she gestured agitatedly between them, "this."

"Your concern is kind, but I would like to be involved in decisions about my own personal life." 

She simmered, and then tracked what he was saying. Something bubbled inside of her chest, but she refused to acknowledge it. "Okay. Your turn."

"I am completely captivated by you. You are a mad, fascinating person." Jaal reached out one hand and hovered near a stray strand of hair on her temple, but withdrew without brushing it away. "You are caring, and beautiful. Our friendship is something I treasure, and I'm honored you'd consider more," he said easily, without a hint of apprehension.

His lack of hesitation, as if it were a casual thing to bear one's soul, was nearly beyond Ryder’s comprehension.

Dumbfounded, she eloquently responded with: "Oh. Okay."

Jaal shook his head, but he was smiling. "I would like to explore," he copied her previous gesture, but smoothly, "what is blossoming between us. But that does mean a lot of conversations like this. Do you think you would be able to handle that?"

Ryder shrugged but gave him a small grin. "Well, I can try to get used to it." She reached up and poked him in the chest. "I am not made of glass. You are allowed to touch me."

Jaal relaxed, bringing his hands forward again. He did brush the hair away, with no small look of satisfaction, and then rested his palm lightly against the side of her face. "Thank you for being so open with me. I will leave you be, so you can return to your work. You know where to find me."

And then he was gone, _rofjinn_ fluttering as he made a quick escape. Ryder looked down at her hand again, stretching the digits. _I wasn't working on anything_ , she mused to herself, and wondered why he had given her some space. Her fingers twinged, and she grimaced. She needed to go to the med bay, and have it fully repaired, but this required a good excuse. She clearly wasn't good at making them.

She walked out her door as well, and her communicator immediately chirped. 

"Did you do something to your room to keep the sound in?" Peebee asked, with the audacity to sound miffed. 

Shocked, Ryder replied, "Did you have my room bugged?"

"Er- comms breaking up. Bye." 

Ryder shook her head. _Guess I'll be keeping that function_ , she thought, but was glad for it. She wanted to keep whatever was happening between her and Jaal private, away from the political fallout of his people and the mirth of her shipmates.

With a sigh, she walked into the med bay. 


	5. V. Voeld

Ryder braked the Nomad and Drack rolled out before they had even stopped. He was practically vibrating with energy.

"Really thought that Fiend had ripped your arm off," he called, his voice coming in too loud through her helmet as he tried to yell over the wind. Ryder winced a little as she pulled herself out of the vehicle; the med gel had only done a patch job on the gash in question across her back and shoulder.

"Aw, Drack, are you worried about me? I didn't know you had gotten so soft," she ribbed as she landed next to him.

He grunted. "Just didn't want to hear it from Lexi on why I couldn't keep a puny human in one piece."

"Mmm, how is Lexi these days?" Ryder asked.

Drack responded by knocking her into a snowbank. 

Jaal climbed out of the Nomad and started towards the metal structure. His usual prerogative was to meditate the petty squabbles, but he was too wired to notice. "I think this is the last Heskaarl beacon," he said, his voice high and tight. 

His excitement was a living thing. The three of them had trekked blithely over Voeld’s surface, infiltrating a Kett facility and taking down a Fiend. Well, the Fiend had nearly taken down Ryder, but she was still standing. She knew he needed this; for Jaal to take part in and complete the Angaran special forces training would be a huge boon for his career, and a mark of greatness.

They were almost done; Ryder just needed to keep all of them alive through the last challenge. 

When the three of them walked into range, the beacon lit up. Andraknor’s voice echoed across the wintry landscape. 

"Ryder! You've reached the final Heskaarl challenge." Drack already had his hammer in one hand, shotgun in the other, shoulders hunched in concentration. Jaal took his rifle out, taking up position behind an overturned crate. "This will test your combat efficiency. The beacon will agitate the Remnant. See if you can best my personal record of five minutes. Good luck, Pathfinder."

The beacon flashed, and mere seconds later a laser beam shot within inches of Ryder's helmet.

"Shit!" She ducked and sprinted, diving into the space next to Jaal. He had lowered his head, dodging a different beam, and they both clamored up as soon as there was a reprieve. 

Ryder set her sniper rifle and peered down the scope. She could see that Drack had charged into the fray, three Assemblers closing in around him. He pumped shotgun shells into one, but another got behind him and fired into his back. He roared in pain and fury, turning around to smash the offending Remnant. In doing so, he missed an Observer floating towards him, powering up its beam. 

Ryder slowed her breathing, lined up the shot, and pulled the trigger. 

The bullet cracked through the air, shattering the interface of the Observer. It went down. She swung her rifle around and lined up a second shot, this time on the remaining Assembler, and took it down. 

"Great shot," Jaal murmured, and she smiled beneath her helmet, pulling the rifle back to reload it. While she reloaded, he fired off a few shots, and she could hear the metallic shriek of an Assembler going down. “Not too bad yourself,” she said to him quietly.

Ryder set the gun back up but didn't see anything in front of her. Too late, she realized what that meant. 

By the time she swung around, shotgun off her hip, an Assembler was bearing down on them. She knocked Jaal away moments before it slammed into her and she tumbled over the crate and across the ice. She scrambled into a crouch, bracing the shotgun against her, only to find that Jaal had already vibrated into action. He had it pinned to the ground and stabbed it forcibly, tearing out wires as it powered down. Another Observer appeared behind him, and he whipped around and lunged at it, grabbing it out of the air and smashing it into the ice in one fluid movement. As it started to rise again, Ryder pumped it full of shotgun shells. 

She grinned, until someone lifted her off the ground by the neck of her armor. She twisted around, but it was only Drack, who set her on her feet. 

"Look sharp, kid. More coming."

He was right. The two of them advanced on another group of Assemblers that came skittering across the snow. Ryder demolished one herself and then blasted the legs off two more, to which Drack followed up, pummeling them with his hammer. She heard the high whistle of a beam just in time to drop to her knees. She fired a shell into the offending Observer, knocking it backwards, and a sharp crack resounded as Jaal finished it off with his rifle. It was followed by an uneasy stillness. 

"How long was that, SAM?"

"A little over two minutes, Pathfinder."

 _Two minutes? No way. It couldn't be that easy._ As soon as Ryder thought it, she heard the rapid-fire _bzt-bzt-bzt-bzt_ of a turreted gun. 

"Move back, kid! It's a Destroyer!" Drack shouted, the static crackling in Ryder's ears as she ducked for cover, the bullets that missed her kicking up shards of ice at her feet, the ones landing wearing down her shield. It broke right as she slid behind a pillar and she took a shot right to her shoulder, aggravating her wound. 

Wincing, she called out, "SAM! Change me over to whichever profile boosts my concentration."

"Infiltrator, Pathfinder?"

More bullets crashed into the pillar above her, raining down ice. "Sure!"

She felt the shift like electricity coursing through her. Her head seared for one second, and then her eyes adjusted, all of her surroundings coming into sharper focus. Drack was buffeting attacks from the Destroyer and Jaal was trying to wear down the turrets, but it was a formidable enemy. Ryder pulled a sticky grenade, took aim, and launched it. While it was still in the air, she launched a second. The first missed its mark, attaching to the Destroyer's torso. The second landed on the left turret. 

"So long," she whispered, and detonated the grenades. One turret exploded but the Destroyer didn't even flinch; it was still standing. And firing. Drack, enraged, ran at the Destroyer and leapt onto its back, clawing at the second turret. 

"No!" Ryder screamed. "Drack, the energy field!"

But it was too late. The Destroyer pulsed with light, a strange noise emanating from it. Then it detonated, blasting Drack into the air. He landed roughly in the snow, groaning. 

Ryder's shield, which she had just recovered, was obliterated. She pulled another grenade and launched it, this one landing near its feet. The explosion didn't seem to faze it, and neither did the shots it was taking from Jaal. However, she noticed it was no longer shooting from its turrets; Drack had succeeded in destroying the second. 

Ryder set her rifle and was lining up a shot when it turned in her direction. She had just fired when it charged, absorbing her bullet as it rocketed towards her. 

"Oh fuc-" is all she had time for as she threw herself sideways, barely avoiding being crushed. She skidded across the ice on her back, grabbing her shotgun and pumping it to reload. The Destroyer's center glowed as it charged its cannon. 

"Oh-" _shot_ "-please-" _shot_ "-fucking-" _shot_ "-die." _shot_

The fourth shot ruptured its interior. The Destroyer staggered and collapsed. Ryder stumbled to her feet, still aiming, but it was down. 

"Hell yeah! Hell yeah-"

Ryder was knocked off her feet and was confused to discover Jaal had tackled her into a snowbank behind a crate. She was about to protest when the Destroyer shrieked, and belatedly Ryder remembered their final detonation sequence. She braced herself and threw an arm around Jaal's neck to cover it. 

The explosion ripped through the air, the heat battering them as the ground shook. Snow and embers rained down on them, mixing into a strange grey sludge. She counted off three seconds in her head and sat up, ears ringing, but the Destroyer was just a twisted, smoking mess. 

"SAM!" Ryder called, her voice sounding tinny in her helmet. She fumbled for the switch and pulled it off, the cold air filling her pounding chest. "Time!"

"Four minutes and thirty-seven seconds, Pathfinder."

She looked over at Jaal, whose wide eyes mirrored her own. _We did it. We did it!_

The beacon crackled to life. "Excellent work, Pathfinder. You and your team showed exemplary talent. I have learned much today in observation. Come and see me soon, and we can speak of a future with the Heskaarl." The comm clicked off, and they were left in the stillness. 

Ryder stood somewhat shakily, but her pain was offset by the adrenaline. She extended a hand to Jaal to help him up, but he launched himself at her, grabbing her around the waist and spinning her, laughing, his joy electric. He set her down and clasped her face in his hands, pressing his forehead to hers. 

"You were exceptional," he breathed, and brushed his lips against her forehead.

Ryder grinned up at him, flushed, and opened her mouth to respond when she heard a dry and obvious cough. 

Drack stood there, watching them. He blinked one eye, and then the other. 

"Well. That was special."

 _How had she forgotten_. Ryder pulled away guilty. "I- uhh - we..." 

Drack gripped his arm and tugged it, in motion that might have been him relocating his shoulder. "I'm driving."

"Sure," she said quickly, placatingly.

"Whenever I want."

A bargain. And a costly one at that. But there was no price too great for his silence. "Sure."

Drack grunted, nodding his head. He kicked at the scraps of the Destroyer, grabbed some pieces, and started walking to the Nomad, leaving them behind. 

Ryder felt uneasy, but one look at Jaal's elated face calmed her down. He was unbothered, the moment too worthwhile to be sullied. _I can handle this_ , she thought as they followed him to the Nomad. _It’s Drack. Maybe he'll think it was nothing._

Drack was waiting in the front seat when they got to the Nomad. After they climbed in, Ryder noticed that the Krogan was looking between herself and Jaal skeptically. Before he could even open his mouth, Ryder cut in, “I swear to God, if I hear the word ‘intentions’ come out of your mouth I will shoot you between the legs.”

Jaal appeared horrified by her threat of violence, but the stakes were too high. Drack grumbled but clearly wasn’t put off. “I’m just saying, back in my day- “

“I’m not kidding, old man. Do you want to bet your spares on this?”

Drack gave her a look so cold it she felt it in her bones. _I took it too far_ , she thought. _He's going to crush my skull with one hand._

But he didn't. Instead, the expression melted into a slow grin; if she wasn’t mistaken, there was the _barest_ hint of admiration in it. “Whatever, kids. Don’t do anything weird in the back while I’m driving.”


	6. VI. Kadara

As Kadara came into focus, the hairs on the back of Ryder's neck stood up. A dusty fog roiled over the landscape, obscuring whatever lay below the mountains. The jagged peaks tore through the dust like claws. It was a wholly unwelcoming place, seething with unspoken threats.

Kallo's face was drawn, shoulders were tense in concentration, gliding the Tempest towards the landing zone. He was unusually quiet. There was something in the air, and they could all feel it.

Their on-board communicator buzzed. "Who's comin' in?" a voice asked, gruff and accusatory.

 _We should stay under the radar,_ Ryder thought.

"This is the Tempest, carrying the Human Pathfinder and crew," Kallo said immediately in response.

Ryder closed her eyes. So much for that.

The voice was incredulous, and responded in choppy, blunt sentences."The Human Pathfinder? You're shitting me. The Pathfinder would never come here." 

Ryder cleared her throat, shifting into her professional persona. It was like changing clothes; or putting on a mask. She straightened up unconsciously. "We indeed have. My name is Sara Ryder. I'm here on behalf-

"Well, _Sara_ ," the voice cut off, uninterested in her speech. "If you really are the Pathfinder, welcome to Kadara. No weapons allowed on the port. Hope you fuck off and die."

The line went dead. Ryder stared out the bridge windows, her jaw clenched. Kallo seemed to be offended on her behalf, muttering quietly to himself.

Suvi leaned over and gave Ryder's hand a gentle squeeze.

"It's just one guy," she said quietly, and Ryder softened. 

Suvi’s brightness was irresistible. Whoever was on the other end of that call could have shot them down and Suvi would still believe there were good people on Kadara. Ryder sometimes hoped she could absorb some of Suvi's sweet nature through osmosis, becoming a little bit of a better person every time she stood at the bridge.

Ryder squeezed back, and then left to prepare for their arrival.

\------

Ryder stood by the hatch, watching her shipmates get ready to disembark. Her stomach churned uneasily. In times like this, she couldn't help but imagine herself as a brooding she-bear; feral and dangerous, ready to go for the throat at the first provocation. She tried to remind herself that this was unnecessary; everyone could take care of themselves. Ryder had a ship full of competent soldiers and crafty fighters, not hapless problem children. Well, at least not really _hapless._

Cora left first, her head tilted up, looking a little bored. Ryder wondered if that was genuine or a disguise. Cora had a knack for assimilating to any environment. When she passed, Ryder caught her eye and smiled. Cora nodded politely in return and left without saying a word, leaving nothing but dust and empty air in her wake. Ryder gave a quiet sigh, disappointed. Cora was a great squadmate in battle, reliable and strong, but they still hadn’t recovered from Ryder’s perceived usurpation. 

Liam and Jaal appeared next, together. Liam's optimism was slightly tempered by caution. Did he know any of the exiles living here? Ryder wondered. Was he hoping to run into someone, or afraid he would? There would be so many uncomfortable reunions in a place like this, two factions severed by desperation and timing meeting again. 

Jaal was wary, taking in the port. Ryder heard there were other Angara on the planet, which made things marginally less complicated. On top of everything else, she hadn't wanted to introduce the exiles to an entirely new species.

Jaal's eyes, roving over the harsh landscape, caught on the skewered Kett head. He stilled. Ryder touched him lightly on the arm, and he turned towards her.

"Stay strong and clear, Jaal," she said.

A smile touched his lips. "You thieved my words."

Ryder shrugged. "I'm trying to fit in here."

Somewhat settled, he departed, Liam ambling beside him. Ryder hoped they would be able to keep each other out of trouble, but doubted it.

Drack and Vetra came next. "We have to meet a contact real quick," Vetra told her casually while Drack checked his blade. Ryder hadn't even bothered making sure he was unarmed this time around. If someone had a problem with it, they could take it up with him, which Ryder assumed would end with broken collarbones.

"How do you already have contacts on Kadara?" Ryder asked.

"I have contacts everywhere," Vetra replied simply, but for a moment something flickered across her face. Then she adjusted her lens and it was gone. Ryder knew Vetra had been asked to join the exiles, and had stayed to repay her debts to Kesh. This place could have been her home; would they have met here for the first time as enemies? What would her ship be like without the scheming Turian? Ryder didn’t want to know.

“Should I ask what you're going to do?” Ryder asked.

"Legitimate business," Drack put bluntly, sheathing his blade and heading down the ramp.

Vetra hung back, eyeing Ryder's outfit with obvious distaste.

"Don't you have anything a little...tougher?"

"What's wrong with this!" she demanded, looking down at her standard Initiative uniform.

"It's very...put together."

"I'm put together!"

Vetra gave her a look that clearly said, _Are you?_ She hummed discontentedly as she continued to examine Ryder's clothes.

Ryder crossed her arms, bristling. "Do you want me to put on a leather jacket or something?"

"I wish you weren't being sarcastic, because you could really use one. This whole thing was fine for Aya, since, well, we were on fire, and you were trying to convince them you're a functional adult and an entire species' representative-"

"Vetra!"

"-I mean that _supportively_ , Ryder, I think you make a very convincing functional adult. But you need something else for a place like this."

At this moment, Peebee bounded out. She had traded in her usual jacket for one whose shoulders were covered in spikes. No, not spikes - Ryder leaned closer and realized it was studded with _teeth._

"Oh, Peebee, what the hell!"

Peebee flounced this way and that, showing it off. " _So_ metal, right? Drack helped me make it. It’s Wraith teeth, stop looking so squeamish, Pathfinder."

"I'm not squeamish," Ryder said with barely-repressed squeamishness. Ryder had recently seen brutality beyond comprehension, and didn’t bat an eye at Drack’s entire body essentially being composed of other creature’s bones, but this… it was so off-putting to see it on Peebee. The grotesque jacket contrasting with her youthful face and painted lips was a tableau that seemed too stark and horrible. But maybe that’s what they had all become; a group of children, clothed in violence. 

"Give Ryder your jacket," Vetra said suddenly, and they both whipped around in her direction.

"No!" They said in unison, and Vetra looked disappointedly at Ryder. 

"The rest of us can blend in," she said slowly to Ryder, and then looked back to Peebee. "Give her the jacket."

"Mmmm, no thank you.” Peebee pranced out of Vetra’s grip just as the Turian had reached for her. “As cute as I think Ryder would be in my clothes, this one's for me."

Before either of them could say anything, she started bounding down the ramp. Drack, waiting at the bottom, saw her jacket and roared approvingly, patting her on the head. Peebee turned and blew Ryder a kiss. _Good luck!_ she mouthed, and was gone, a fae creature off to create chaos.

Things had not started strong in Kadara Port. Vetra was staring at Ryder, who rubbed her face tiredly.

"We're not-" Ryder started, but Vetra put a hand up.

"I have so many things in my brain, and not a single iota of memory needs to be spent on who is bedding whom on this ship. I do not care."

"But we're not-"

"Not. A _single_. Iota." She said the words firmly, but not unkindly. Vetra, done with that particular conversation, shifted back to the previous, as if nothing had happened. 

"Send me your weird human measurements and I'll pick up some new clothes while we're out,” she said, typing into her omni-tool, already walking down to meet Drack.

“I’m serious!” Vetra called over her shoulder. “This is not the place to look like a blessed saint. Send me your measurements! And try not to get your ass kicked in the meantime.”

\------

Ryder shoved her way into Kralla's Song, feeling like she just got her ass kicked.

As it turned out, the port full of Nexus exiles had _not_ taken kindly to the arrival of the Human Pathfinder. This was unfortunate, because said Pathfinder was on a mission to spread goodwill and hospitality on the planet, and was _very determined to not kill anybody._

She had been exploring the market when two exiles had jumped her near the back alley. It had been a dirty fight, in more ways than one. While she had been able to incapacitate them _non-lethally,_ her face and hair were coated in dust, and one had managed to tear her right sleeve clear off.

 _So much for put together_ , she thought bitterly as she tried to push her left sleeve up her arm. Ryder just wanted to get in, find her contact, and get on her way. No more problems.

Not ten seconds into the dim bar, a drunk patron eyeballed her eagerly. "Oh damn," he called. "S'the Pathfinder!"

She ignored him, walking towards the staircase, but he lurched after her. His fingers bunched around her remaining sleeve, and Ryder snapped her jaw shut. She pulled away, the fabric tearing, and as she looked at the gaping hole something else tore open inside of her. She grabbed his wrist and twisted, the sickening _crack_ bringing only a weary sense of satisfaction. He howled in pain, clutching his broken wrist to his chest. His companions didn't even move; no one in the bar tried to help him. Life trickled on.

 _I hate this place,_ Ryder thought, grabbing what remained of her sleeve by the hem and ripping it clean off. She stomped down the stairs.

Drack was at the bottom, piling empty cups on a side table. He looked from her would-be assailant to her ripped clothes.

"Having a good time, kid?"

"A blast. Finished with your 'legitimate business?'"

Drack nodded, draining his cup and adding it to the pile. "Mmhm. Just checking out the local establishments. The drinks are good, if a little weak. Don't ask Umi to surprise you," he tossed his head towards the bartender. "it's poison."

Ryder blanched. "Thanks for the heads up. Think you can be sober by the time we leave the port?"

He just grunted in reply, but she thought she could detect the traces of a smile. _At least he's blending in._

Ryder was heading to the bartender when she caught sight of Jaal out of the corner of her eye, leaning in dark alcove, observing the landscape. She smiled, heading towards him, but stopped suddenly. Something was wrong. It took her a moment to realize, and when she did, her stomach sank.

Jaal was _radiating_ disgust. His body was rigid with it, his mouth a thin, dissatisfied slash. Ryder quickened her steps, taking the space beside him and bumping him with her shoulder, trying to look and remain casual. “Hey Jaal, what’s going on?”

He turned to her, but when he saw her disheveled appearance his nose twitched in agitation. “Ryder, what happened?” he asked, lifting a hand to her hair.

She shifted out his reach, trying to ignore the wounded look that crossed his face. _Not here. Not Kadara, not in front of all these people who would do anything, hurt anyone, to hurt me,_ she thought, but didn’t know how to explain this to him.

His hand hovered where it was a second longer, then returned to his side with an agonizing uncertainty.

Ryder tried to shrug it off. “Just a little misunderstanding between me and some of the settlers here.”

Jaal’s face set, and he exhaled sharply through his nose. His feelings seemed to crackle across his body. "They aren’t settlers. They are dishonorable scavengers and thieves.”

 _Shit._ This was a no good very bad thing. Patrons started turning in their direction, glowering. Ryder could sense the bloodlust churning. She saw Drack shift slightly, his hand going to where he kept his blade. _Shit shit._

“Jaal,” she began quietly, urgently. “I get that you’re frustrated. But I need you keep your feelings to yourself for a while, so we can-"

"Keep my feelings to myself?!" He was louder now, fueled by his indignation. "Is it a secret that this place is awful, full of the dregs of-"

" _Jaal_." Her voice was low and clipped. The blood pounded in Ryder’s ears, fear and frustration and anger creating a storm within her. She put a hand firmly on his chest to stop him, and could feel his rapid heartbeat under her palm. “Go back to the ship. This is an order."

The silence that followed was deafening. The patrons of Kralla’s Song watched with wild anticipation, hoping to see a skirmish break out. As the blood continued to thud in her ears, Ryder thought distantly that they would be disappointed. She had already dealt the deathblow.

Jaal stared at her for a long, long moment. His usually bright eyes were shadowed and unfathomable. He slowly covered her hand with his own, and she felt a faint glimmer of hope - and then he removed her hand from his chest.

"Yes, Pathfinder," he said evenly, side-stepping her. She closed her eyes, listening to his steps recede, listening to the patrons moving on, seeking their next thrill. 

_Shit._

"A woman in charge? That's a woman after my own heart."

Ryder opened her eyes and turned, preparing to break another wrist, only to find a man leaning against the bar. He was the picture of confidence, hungry eyes twinkling with mirth. He gave her a slow, languid smile.

"I'm Shena, but I'd rather you call me Reyes. Especially if you use that pissed-off tone of voice. Can I buy you a drink?"

\------

Ryder stood on the dock, watching Cora argue with someone who was trying to buy the Nomad. It was definitely going to end poorly for him, but Ryder was beyond caring. 

This frustrating day had gotten worse: Sloane Kelly, someone she desperately needed some sort of alliance with, had threatened to kill her. Ryder had been forcibly removed, body intact, dignity in shreds. Ryder had set up a rescue for ungrateful Angaran traitor Vehn Terev, but he didn't know where the Archon’s ship was, and had only sent her some coordinates for something buried in the Badlands.

Now Reyes wanted her to check out a string of murders, and she was worried that if it really was the Roekaar, that could make Kadara even more unstable. Belated, she realized her own crew would make prime targets. _Shit._ Who was the most vulnerable? 

Ryder activated her comm device and made a call. “Hey, Peebee. How are things on your end?

For a few tense moments, there was silence on the other end. Ryder was about to start towards her coordinates when Peebee responded.

“You know Ryder, you take me to the most exotic places,” she said drily. “There are easier ways to impress a girl.”

Relief filled her chest. She couldn’t even muster a sarcastic reply. “Just keep an eye out, okay? There are a lot of people here who want to hurt us. I’ve been attacked twice already.”

"Well, you do have a very punchable face."

That relief had been short lived. 

“Bye Peebee, glad I had a lapse in judgement and worried about you." Ryder ended the call before Peebee could respond. Another call immediately came through, and she assumed it was the Asari trying to get in the last word, but it was Vetra.

"So, I did find a leather jacket in your size! I also got better pants. They might be a little tight, so maybe don’t fight anyone while wearing them, but hopefully wearing them means less people will want to fight you."

Ryder sighed. "I don't think it's the clothes that are starting the fights."

"I know, it's your face-"

"Do not say it's punchable!"

"Because your face is starting to be famous, damn!” Vetra clicked her tongue. “At least you have the aggression of Kadara Port down. I'll leave these on the Tempest for you. You can pay me when you get back."

"So generous." 

Cora pulled a pistol on the prospective buyer, reminding Ryder know that no one listened to her. On the upside, they were ready to go. She hesitated a moment, and then said quickly: "Actually Vetra, could you come down to the Badlands with me and Drack?"

A beat of silence. "Not Jaal?"

She needed to apologize. She wasn't ready to apologize. "I think you'd be better for this."

"Well, I can't say I disagree. You can't save everyone's soul in Kadara. I'll be right there."

\------

They were pinned down, bullets firing overhead and ricocheting off the cavern walls. Ryder and Vetra crouched behind a rock, waiting for the moment to strike. From her vantage point, she could see Drack down a side tunnel, chasing some Roekaar stragglers.

Ryder and her team had been tracking Reyes' murderer, and ended up ambushed by Farah Noskos and her Roekaar soldiers. Reyes had at least shown up _eventually_ to help, setting off explosions and launching them into their current firefight.

Farah shrieked in frustrated rage, and Vetra took that as her opportunity to strike, dashing out from behind cover, gun already blazing. Ryder jumped up and aimed in the direction the bullets had been coming from, firing off two shotgun shells into the chest of a Roekaar soldier who had turned towards Vetra. The Turian, for her credit, was making swift work of two more.

Reyes slid in beside her, setting his rifle and taking aim. He took down the last soldier flanking Farah.

"Isn't this fun?" He asked her, and she hummed in response. She was intently watching Farah, who had not only taken the high ground, but was expertly taking cover.

Ryder’s attention was consumed by the problem of how to get to Farah, so she missed the soldier that sprinted past Drack and fired. Ryder’s shotgun was blasted out of her grip and she snapped her hands back with a gasp, the reverberation stinging through them. The shotgun clattered away, so she grabbed her sniper rifle, watching as Drack smashed the offending attacker. She set her sniper and peered down the scope, setting it on the space she hoped Farah would soon occupy.

Her breath shallow, she had enough time to feel a twinge of regret — this was a foolish reason to die, too stubborn and hateful to change — before Farah's head filled her scope. Ryder took the shot, and the last assailant fell.

Into the newfound quiet, Reyes whistled. He stood and offered a hand to Ryder. "You are quite the shot," he said in a honeyed voice.

Ryder accepted the hand and stood. "I know."

She deactivated her helmet and tossed a medgel to Vetra, who had taken a shot to the ribs.

"You used us as bait," Vetra grumbled to Reyes as she applied the salve, wincing.

"Yes, but it worked. And I got the added bonus of seeing your dashing Pathfinder in action." Reyes threw her an appreciative look. Ryder did not return it. But she knew that while what he had done was low, but it had been effective.

"We make a good team," she told him. "We're trying to get an outpost going here, if you'd be interested in helping."

Reyes raised his eyebrows and stalked closer to her. Ryder put out a hand reflexively to create some distance. He caught it and brought it to his lips, dropping her a sly wink.

"I'm interested in a lot of things. But I will help with your outpost, though I don't know how Sloane Kelly will feel about one. Don't be surprised if I call you later, Pathfinder."

Reyes exited, leaving Ryder behind. She looked at the back of her hand and then rubbed it on her pant leg, shaking her head. 

"Alright, team. Let's head back to the Nomad. I'm sure another crisis awaits."

Vetra went out the door, but when Ryder tried to follow her, Drack moved into her path.

"What's up? Do you need something?" She checked her readout, but his vitals were good. Well, good enough for Drack.

He just stared down at her, shuffling from side to side. He had the grim determination of someone who was resigned to the firing squad. Ryder realized he was working himself up to say something.

She became a little nervous. Drack had no problem letting people know when he was pissed, disappointed, or some combination of both. This had to be something else entirely.

"Hey old man, you got something on your mind?" she asked, and he huffed out a breath. It sounded like it came from the depths of his soul.

"Look, kid, I know your father wasn't around much so I don't know if he ever told you..."

Alarm bells rang in Ryder’s mind. Disaster was imminent. "Drack, what are you trying to say?"

"There are....how do I put this." He brought his hands together, and started making motions Ryder didn't even want to begin to understand." So. There are people that want to keep your bed warm, and people that want to make a nest with you, and-"

" _Drack_ ." Realization hit her like a tsunami and left only mortification in its wake. "Is this the sex talk? Are you trying to explain how sex works.....to me?" An even worse realization hit. "Because of _Reyes_?" 

"It’s not just Reyes, and you know it. And I'm not trying to explain the mechanics of how..." Drack didn't seem to know where to gesture, and bizarrely landed on her general torso, "...this… works. I don't know. I've spent a millennia not knowing how humans mate, and I'm not looking to learn."

This was too much. “Drack, how old do you think I am?” 

Drack shrugged. "What's young in human years? 15? 50? You're a child to me, you're all children to me." He clearly hated this conversation, but some deep-seated conviction kept him going. Had this come from raising Kesh? How had _that_ conversation gone? It couldn’t have been worse than this. This might be the death of her.

“I’m an adult, old man,” she said cautiously. “This isn't my first foray into this particular battle. I know what I'm doing.”

“Mm. That’s debatable.” 

Ryder hoped this would be the end of the conversation, but much to her horror, he seemed to gather all of his strength to keep talking. “I just wanted to make sure you knew this stuff.”

At ‘this stuff’ he started to make the motions again, and Ryder put her hands out to stop him.

“Drack! Drack. Stop. Are you worried I don’t know Reyes only wants to sleep with me?”

Drack exhaled with his entire body, bending over and lolling his head. He had been released from the firing squad. “Great. You’re not as much of an idiot as I thought.”

“Drack! What the hell!”

"Kid," he began, and this was said with more affection than she could ever remember hearing him direct towards hers. "You're an idiot."

"Oh, thanks."

"Shut up. I wasn't done. I was going to say, you're an idiot. But at least you're not an idiot about this. That's all I was checking. My work here is done."

He started walking away then, no preamble. She shook her head, the whiplash of the experience rattling her. She grabbed her shotgun and followed him. 

“So, are we done?”

He turned his head towards her. “Are you looking for advice?”

“About _this?_ From _you?_ No offense, but not at all.”

He chuckled. “Good. I don't have any. You'll make your own decisions, and they are _usually_ fine.”

Ryder pretended to consider this. “You know what, you're right. I have great taste. I think I'll ask out Peebee.”

Drack roared with laughter, and it echoed off the walls. "Shit, kid. You don't have the quads to tie down Peebee. That's a fool's errand."

They left the cave together and Vetra was standing by the Nomad, trying to appear pleasant. It was not convincing. 

"Hey, could I get a chance to drive?” she asked, as if the thought was just occurring to her.

“I don’t think so,” Ryder called jovially, climbing into the back. Vetra groaned loudly, and it rose in pitch as Drack climbed into the front.

“Why does Drack get to drive!” she demanded. 

Drack leaned out of the vehicle and slapped Vetra on the back, knocking her forward. “I’m Ryder’s favorite. It’s a tough gig, but someone’s gotta do it.”


End file.
